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Capsule reviews of films playing the week of Sept. 28 

Movies include Trouble with the Curve, The Master, more

THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN Perhaps it's best to think of Sam Raimi's 2002 Spider-Man and Marc Webb's 2012 The Amazing Spider-Man as the cinematic equivalents of Coke Classic and New Coke. Despite some alterations to the source material (hey, where's Gwen Stacy?), the Raimi take earned the trust of most purists, offering a near-perfect Peter Parker in Tobey Maguire, treating the origin story in appropriate fashion (right down to the introduction of Spidey in that wrestling ring), and adding the right dash of humor that was long present in the comic book created by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko. Webb's new version, on the other hand, is an unnecessary variation on the real thing ™, sweetening the formula to go down easier for today's sugar-rush audiences. Suddenly, Peter Parker is no longer the ultimate outsider, the self-deprecating, geeky kid who locates the hero buried deep within himself. Now, he's the poster boy for the iPhone generation, a surly hipster who, oh yeah, just happens to also be a superhero. The film's problems begin with the casting of Andrew Garfield as our teen hero. It was easy to believe that Maguire would be a high-school whipping boy, but Garfield? The actor tries his hardest, but when it looks as if Peter Parker just stepped out of a GQ photo shoot (right down to the perfectly coifed hair), it's hard to take him seriously as someone who's perpetually ignored by girls and harassed by guys. (Far more believable is Emma Stone as Peter's lady love Gwen Stacy.) Visually, the picture strikes all the right notes (even if Spidey's swings are a bit too neatly choreographed), although the same can't be said for a script that went through at least two revisions before reaching the screen. What's most surprising — and frustrating — about the film is that there's little human dimension to it. Raimi took time out to examine the everyday lives of Maguire's Peter and Kirsten Dunst's Mary Jane Watson, but Garfield's Peter and Gwen are given little time for such introspection, with the script busily racing from one crisis or conspiracy to the next. What's more, Webb's movie is on the whole rather humorless: Aside from the hilarious Stan Lee cameo, there are few throwaway gags. All of this isn't to say that this reboot should completely get the boot. On the contrary, The Amazing Spider-Man is acceptable hot-weather entertainment, filled with the types of colorful characters, frenetic action sequences and high-flying special effects we've come to expect from our multiplex outings. But it's clearly no match for Raimi's Spider-Man or Spider-Man 2 (it bests Spider-Man 3, however), and it certainly can't be mentioned in the presence of such genre high points as Superman, The Dark Knight or even this year's The Avengers. **1/2

BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD Belonging under the same umbrella of "magical realism" that informed works as diverse as Amelie, Like Water for Chocolate and The Tin Drum, writer-director Benh Zeitlin's feature-film debut centers on 6-year-old Hushpuppy (Quvenzhane Wallis), a headstrong girl from the Louisiana bayou. With her mother long absent from the scene, she lives in a ramshackle home next to that of her father Wink (Dwight Henry), a man whose often harsh manner with his daughter isn't child abuse as much as an extreme — and, given the surroundings, usually necessary — form of tough love. The poor people who populate this community are rich in spirit, so after a brutal storm (obviously Katrina) decimates the area, the survivors elect to engage in a celebration replete with booze and seafood. But Wink, who has already been succumbing to a mysterious ailment, shows no signs of getting better, and Hushpuppy's angst over his condition is compounded by the fact that the melting polar ice caps have released an army of long-extinct aurochs (presented by this film as killer cattle) which is inexorably marching toward Hushpuppy's terrain. Winner of no less than four prizes at Cannes and two at Sundance, Beasts of the Southern Wild might be a bit too harsh for small children (it's rated PG-13 for "child imperilment, some disturbing images, language and brief sensuality"). That's a shame, since, like Whale Rider before it, the movie offers some valuable life lessons for kids, ones far more heady than the usual "Be yourself" mantra repeated ad nauseam in countless American animated features. This is a story of survival, of recognizing and respecting the rules of the natural world. It's also highly imaginative, doubtless able to charge young minds more than any assembly-line Hasbro adaptation. Wallis proves to be a natural before the camera, and the score by Zeitlin and Dan Romer is exceptional. ***1/2

THE BOURNE LEGACY No Matt Damon? No problem! With the actor having ably tackled the role of Jason Bourne in the trio of films based on Robert Ludlum's best-selling Bourne trilogy — and with attempts at bringing Damon back for a fourth, uncharted Bourne project falling through — the studio has opted to head in another direction with The Bourne Legacy. To be sure, it's about as useless a sequel as, say, More American Graffiti or The Sting II (yes, those films really do exist), and its sole, cynical purpose is to keep a franchise on life support so as to generate a few more box office dollars before the inevitable flatline. Fortunately, Tony Gilroy, who scripted the Damon Bournes, has remained with the project — he's now writer and director — and his continued involvement at least ensures some sort of narrative cohesion. That's not the case initially, as the film does little to welcome back those folks who don't have the original trilogy in their DVD library: In between scenes introducing us to the character of covert operative Aaron Cross (Jeremy Renner), there's much talk regarding the concurrent actions of Bourne himself, and viewers might need to acclimate themselves to the info overload concerning Treadstone, Pam Landy, Noah Vosen and other keywords that would draw up the series in a Google search. Eventually, the movie settles down and focuses on the efforts of Cross to evade a government that now views him as expendable; his only ally is Dr. Marta Shearing (Rachel Weisz), a scientist who finds herself similarly disposable. Thanks to Weisz's performance, her character becomes the audience surrogate more than Renner's impenetrable Aaron Cross, who isn't given enough dimension to emerge from Jason Bourne's shadow. The action sequences, a vivid draw in the other films (particularly The Bourne Ultimatum), run hot-and-cold here: A battle inside Marta's home is superbly orchestrated, but a climactic chase through the streets of Manila is overbaked, particularly when one notes that the assassin in pursuit proves to be as indestructible as a T-1000 sent from the future. **1/2

THE CAMPAIGN Set entirely in North Carolina but filmed entirely in Louisiana — because, Heaven knows, NC has no film industry to call its own, and we certainly don't need those Hollywood dollars — The Campaign casts Will Ferrell as Democratic congressman Cam Brady, a four-term incumbent who expects to waltz unopposed to a fifth term. But an adulterous fling has left him vulnerable, leading the powerful kingmakers the Motch brothers (John Lithgow and Dan Aykroyd) to back a challenger who could potentially win the district and thereby allow them to build a Chinese sweat shop on U.S. soil. They choose Marty Huggins (Zach Galifianakis), a naive and mincing nobody who's described by even his own dad (Brian Cox) as "one sorry fuck." The Republican Marty hopes to win so he can genuinely serve his constituents (yes, the movie is pure fiction), but it's an uphill battle considering Cam's experience on the campaign trail. As the dapper yet duplicitous Cam Brady (modeled after John Edwards?), Ferrell is allowed one or two of his patented freak-out scenes but for the most part keeps his over-the-top shtick in check. Yet the real surprise is Galifianakis. An actor who has aggravated me to no end in all of his screen ventures to date (particularly Due Date and, dare I say it?, The Hangover and its sequel), he adopts the right delivery tone for the sweet, soft-spoken and simple Marty Huggins. Despite its reluctance to swim in the dark-comedy waters explored by Tim Robbins' Bob Roberts or Warren Beatty's excellent Bulworth, The Campaign still manages to hit some topical targets. When Cam's decades-old elementary-school project, a picture book about a make-believe place called Rainbowland, is hilariously used by Marty as a way to discredit the congressman ("Sounds Commie to me!" charges Marty), an audience member at the debate starts screaming at Cam, "I won't live in Rainbowland and you can't make me!" — a nonsensical stance frighteningly similar to those seen by Tea Party chowderheads at their infamous rallies. And the burning desire by politicians to be photographed kissing a baby leads to an uproarious bit. Admittedly, it's ruined for those who have seen the film's trailer, but no worries: Another scene features a popular four-legged star, and it's even funnier. ***

THE COLD LIGHT OF DAY Madrid will always hold a special place in my heart, as it was in the Spain capital where 10th grade student Matthew Brunson, in town from next-door Portugal for a high school basketball tournament, got inebriated for the first time in his life, playing a game of "Quarters" while The J. Geils Band's "Freeze Frame" blared in the background. I bring this up only because, after sitting through the Madrid-set thriller The Cold Light of Day, I surely could use another stiff drink. Sigourney Weaver doubtless would be happy to join me at the bar: The actress, who last year suffered the indignity of backing up Taylor Lautner — Taylor Lautner, for God's sake — in the daft Abduction, now finds herself essaying the role of the villain in another action flick that's nearly as dopey. As the duplicitous CIA agent Jean Carrack, she squares off against Will Shaw (Henry Cavill), who's after a briefcase that Carrack swiped from Middle Eastern spies (we never learn the contents of the briefcase, but don't expect a denouement worthy of Kiss Me Deadly or Pulp Fiction). The ruffians are holding Will's family hostage, and they'll kill the clan unless the briefcase is returned to them. Carrack isn't about to let that happen, and with the help of her weaponry and her vehicle, she seemingly destroys half of Madrid to achieve her goal. It's hard to tell whether Weaver is patterning her performance after Schwarzenegger's taciturn turn in The Terminator or if she's merely embarrassed by the whole thing, but either way, she's woefully ineffectual. Cavill will be playing Superman in the upcoming Man of Steel, but based on his charisma-free work here, he appears to be no Christopher Reeve — or Brandon Routh, for that matter. As for the film itself, its dialogue is dull, its characters even more so, and its action sequences pack all the excitement of a Tide commercial. It seeks to emulate the Bourne films but merely ends up stillborn. *1/2

COMPLIANCE One of the most deeply disturbing movies of recent vintage, Compliance opens with the words "Inspired By True Events," a declaration that should always be taken with a grain — or pound — of salt. Yet my post-viewing exercise consisted of tracking down information on the Internet, and it turns out that every horrifying incident seen in the movie also occurred in real life, the sort of depressing intel that makes one weep for humanity. Written and directed by Craig Zobel, whose previous work includes 2007's shot-in-Charlotte gem Great World of Sound, the film is set at the fictional fast food eatery ChickWich (in real life, it was a McDonald's in Kentucky). Sandra (Ann Dowd), the middle-aged manager, receives a phone call from someone identifying himself as Officer Daniels (Pat Healy); he informs her that one of her employees, a pretty teenager named Becky (Dreama Walker), has been accused of stealing money from a customer and that she must be detained at the restaurant until police can arrive. Sandra dutifully complies, even as the caller's demands grow ever more outrageous; before the whole sordid drama comes to a close, lewd and even violent acts will have been committed. More than just a study of this country's oft irrational fear of law enforcement (how many of us slow down when we see a car pulled by a police officer, as if we expect said lawman to suddenly elect to ignore the pulled driver and chase us Smokey and the Bandit style?), the movie also examines the manner in which even a drop of power turns otherwise reasonable people into monsters. Compliance is a difficult watch, but it's directed with skill and fronted by strong performances from Dowd and Walker. A coda reveals that 70 such incidents have occurred in over 30 states, but what it does not reveal is that the man behind most of them (including the McDonald's scam), after finally being arrested, was then acquitted — presumably by a jury so stupid, you wonder how its members have the brainpower to tie their shoes each morning. ***

THE DARK KNIGHT RISES The third time's usually not the charm when it comes to blockbuster sagas (X-Men, Spider-Man, The Matrix, need I continue?), but any worries that writer-director Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy drives itself off a cliff with this concluding entry are completely ill-founded. The Dark Knight Rises may not match the giddy heights of its predecessors, but it often comes damn close. Set eight years after the end of The Dark Knight, this picture finds Bruce Wayne/Batman (Christian Bale) lured out of self-imposed isolation by two newcomers to Gotham City: a cat burglar named Selina Kyle (Anne Hathaway) and Bane (Tom Hardy), a man-mountain so intimidating that even Bruce's faithful butler Alfred (Michael Caine) urges his master to run the other way. Alfred and a rookie cop named John Blake (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) interestingly take turns providing our hero with a moral compass, with the former declaring that Batman needs to save the city and the latter insisting that Bruce Wayne needs to save himself. The beauty of this dichotomy as presented by Nolan (once again co-scripting with his brother Jonathan Nolan and David S. Goyer) is that both men are right, and the challenge for Bruce/Batman is to sacrifice neither Gotham nor his own life. That's a tall order, though, what with Bane instigating a reign of terror that topples the local government, neutralizes the police force, and pits the citizens of Gotham against each other. If there's a flaw in The Dark Knight Rises, it's that the midsection sags: The scenes of Bane taking over could stand being trimmed, and there's a lengthy chunk when Batman seems like a supporting player in his own saga. The film isn't overlong even at 165 minutes, but some of that middle-act excess would have been better served by more Bale, more Caine, and especially more Hathaway. The rumors that the supposedly miscast actress would sink this film were clearly off the mark: Hathaway doesn't quite own the role as Michelle Pfeiffer did in Tim Burton's Batman Returns, but she's nevertheless one of the highlights of this endeavor. Her Selina Kyle (interestingly, she's never called Catwoman in the actual film) is a fascinating character, a possibly bisexual woman (Juno Temple's Holly seems more like her GF than her BFF) whose athletic prowess is matched not only by her sharp intellect but also her quirky sense of humor. She provides The Dark Knight Rises with most of its levity; the rest of the time, this brooding, bruising movie is content building its reputation as a black beauty. ***1/2

THE EXPENDABLES 2 The best thing about The Expendables 2 involves Chuck Norris. I don't mean his performance — he's as awful as ever, showing less range than a mattress pad — but rather that his character manages to work in one of those popular "Chuck Norris Internet facts" that have led to his renewed popularity (e.g. "Chuck Norris drinks napalm to quell his heartburn"; "Chuck Norris counted to infinity ... twice"). I won't ruin the Norris "fact" used in the film, but it provides one of the few genuine laughs, and it's certainly better than the forced wisecracks centering around iconic figures formerly played by co-stars Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis and Arnold Schwarzenegger. A marginal improvement over the first Expendables romp, this sequel offers expanded roles for Willis and Schwarzenegger (whose appearances in the first film amounted to nothing more than cameos), casts another 80s action star as the villain (Jean-Claude Van Damme as ... groan ... Jean Vilain), and, perhaps in a dubious attempt to expand the audience beyond action-crazed young males, adds group newcomers in the form of a pinup heartthrob (The Hunger Games' Liam Hemsworth) and a kick-ass woman (Nan Yu). The team's mission is twofold: Stop Vilain from using his plutonium supply to conquer the world and exact their revenge on said villain for murdering one of their own. Director Simon West's action flicks tend to be cluttered, choppy affairs (Lara Croft: Tomb Raider, Con Air), and The Expendables 2 is no exception. As the team leader and his right-hand man, Stallone and Jason Statham awkwardly exchange male-bonding barbs. One of the franchise stars appears only at the beginning, leaving audiences to wonder if he was downed by pneumonia for the rest of the shoot. Schwarzenegger, whose Botoxed mug makes him look like a CGI creation, lamely tries on Willis' signature "yippee-ki-yay" and finds it to be an ill fit (Willis fares better with Arnie's "I'll be back"). And so it goes. The movie is, at best, average as a straight-up action flick and subpar as an action spoof, but it succeeds in one regard. Conservatives upset that they couldn't afford to have attended the Republican National Convention in Tampa can purchase a ticket to this picture at their local multiplex and basically enjoy the same experience. Watching diehard right-wingers Willis, Schwarzenegger, Norris and Stallone shooting up everything in sight, one can easily imagine both the anti-Obama cracks and pro-NRA comments that were doubtless being tossed about when the cameras weren't rolling. **

FINDING NEMO For approximately a quarter-century, we've been witnessing a remarkable renaissance in the animation field, blessed with a number of toon flicks that have constantly tried to up the ante in regard to more complex storylines, richer character development and, of course, revolutionary graphics: Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Beauty and the Beast, Toy Story, Chicken Run and Spirited Away all managed to introduce viewers to something they hadn't quite experienced before. Pixar/Disney's Oscar-winning Finding Nemo, which has been theatrically re-released in 3-D, comes close to such touchstone status only in one respect: Its animation is truly stunning, awash (pun intended) in a dazzling array of colors and creating the impression of a living, breathing sea. As for the storyline, it's a familiar one to anybody who's ever sat through earlier Disney films (both animated and live-action), employing elements previously seen in everything from Bambi (loss of a parent) to Pinocchio (accepting responsibility) to The Incredible Journey (braving impossible odds to be reunited with a loved one). Albert Brooks provides the voice for Marlin, a timid clown fish and single parent who sets out to rescue his son Nemo (Alexander Gould), who's been captured by a deep-sea diver and deposited in an aquarium that rests in a dentist's office in Sydney, Australia. For all its visual splendor and adult-oriented gags (nods to Psycho, Jaws and The Shining are included), Finding Nemo falls short of most Pixar films primarily because many of its characters lack depth. Unlike, say, Toy Story, where each player is beautifully delineated, too many here seem more like "types" than unique individuals. The aquarium dwellers work well together but never shine on their own — certainly, their non sequiturs aren't nearly as uproarious as those tossed off by Hamm, Mr. Potato Head, et al. What's more, Dory, a scatter-brained blue tang voiced by Ellen DeGeneres, and Crush, a mellow surfer-dude turtle voiced by director Andrew Stanton, have always been as likely to alienate viewers as envelop them (Dory with her scatterbrained routine and Crush with his Bill-and-Ted-speak). Still, it's downright curmudgeonly to remain focused on the negatives when the rest of the picture is saturated with invention and wit. ***

FOR A GOOD TIME, CALL... A better buildup and a few more potent gags might have elevated this from bridesmaid status in the comedy genre to Bridesmaids status as an across-the-board hit. Lauren Ann Miller, who also co-wrote the script with newbie Katie Anne Naylon, and Ari Graynor star as Lauren and Katie, two dissimilar roommates who are struggling financially. After Lauren loses a coveted job, she discovers that Katie makes money on the side as a phone-sex operator, handling calls from within her own bedroom. Seeing the potential of such a racket — and desperate enough to try anything — Lauren puts her business savvy to work, handling the behind-the-scenes activity while Katie continues to give good voice. Eventually, the straight-laced Lauren grows tired of being "boring" and decides to join Katie in talking dirty to horny clients. For a Good Time, Call... adheres to formula a bit too often: Naturally, the ladies' best friend is gay (Justin Long is appealing in the role), and viewers can see the wedge that will drive the friends apart even before the butter on the popcorn begins coagulating. And there are some blown opportunities as well: Sugar Lyn Beard is delightful as a squeaky-voiced girl who joins the phone-sex biz, but rather than keep her around, the filmmakers waste her by clumsily employing her character for a finger-wagging gag that fizzles out. Yet what makes the film succeed is the relationship between Lauren and Katie. We've had our share of movies focusing on the good-natured nobility of — God, how I hate this word — "bromances," but Bridesmaids aside, most comedies centering on female friendships tend to paint the ladies in a grotesque light (Something Borrowed, Bride Wars, etc.). This picture explores the give-and-take dynamics between the pair in a sympathetic and believable manner, with both actresses excelling in their characterizations. It provides for a fairly good time at the movies, and best of all, the ticket cost won't break down to $2.99 a minute. **1/2

HOPE SPRINGS It should have been this summer's Julie & Julia or The Devil Wears Prada: a delightful Meryl Streep vehicle inclusive enough to sport a PG-13 rating but specifically geared toward mature moviegoers seeking a respite from blockbusters aimed at younger audiences. Hope Springs evereunites the actress with her Prada director, David Frankel. Yet despite the star teaming of Streep and Tommy Lee Jones, the picture is a letdown, saved from complete irrelevance by, you guessed it, the superlative turns by the two leads. The premise is more than merely promising, centering on a long-married couple who attempt to salvage their stale relationship by spending a week at an out-of-town counseling retreat. Kay (Streep) is the unhappy one, tired of leading a passion-free life and eager to give the program a chance. Arnold (Jones) is the complacent one, satisfied with his utterly predictable (and utterly dull) existence and prone to complaining nonstop once his wife manages to get him to the seminar. It's a provocative setup, and with the added attraction of Steve Carell as the counselor, it sounds like it can't miss. Unfortunately, scripter Vanessa Taylor does remarkably little with this choice idea. She neuters Carell with a part that requires no depth or variation — it's the first time I've ever seen this talented comedian rendered dull — and she initially makes Arnold such an unpleasant man that his inevitable about-face feels more than a little forced. That we stick with the character at all is a testament to Jones' acting abilities; Streep's sympathetic spouse means she has an easier time of it, but she still goes beyond the call of script duty to insure that we suffer right alongside this woman. But the two thespians can only do so much with the frequently clinical dialogue, and the scenes in which the couple try to be intimate (as per the counselor's instructions) are undermined by cheap shots at the notion of old folks getting it on. At least the Viagra cracks are kept to a bare minimum. **

THE MASTER There's a great scene in Milos Forman's 1984 Oscar winner Amadeus when Mozart (Tom Hulce) tries to convince Emperor Joseph II (Jeffrey Jones) to allow him to stage a particular opera. Replies the Emperor, "You are passionate ... but you do not persuade." That snatch of dialogue might as well be the slogan for Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master, the latest from the writer-director of There Will Be Blood and the instant masterpiece Boogie Nights. The Master features passionate performances from its stars, Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman. It's obviously a work of passion for its creator, who stages it with his typical flair and inventiveness. And yet it never quite persuades us to believe in its convictions, its viewpoints, even its sense of purpose. Phoenix essays the role of Freddie Quell, a World War II vet who returns to the world in a shell-shocked condition. An often temperamental man, he soon becomes a disciple of sorts to Lancaster Dodd (Hoffman), the founder of a religion known as The Cause. No one, not even Dodd's wife Peggy (Amy Adams), can understand why such a cultured gentleman like Lancaster would hang around an uncouth thug like Freddie. But it's a relationship that works in spurts — and that pretty much describes the film itself. Although Lancaster Dodd and The Cause are clearly based on L. Ron Hubbard and Scientology, the film approaches the religion from such a safe, soft distance that it's hard to get a proper slant on its inner workings and outer appeal. This problem would perhaps have been alleviated by making Lancaster Dodd, the picture's most interesting character, the protagonist, but this is clearly Freddie's story, thereby keeping audiences at an unfortunate distance. The Master contains some genuinely powerful scenes and probably warrants a second viewing, but for the most part, even true believers of Paul Thomas Anderson might lose some of their faith after kneeling before this heavily hyped, but curiously airless, endeavor. **1/2

PARANORMAN The stop-motion animated feature ParaNorman arrives courtesy of the same production company (Laika Entertainment) responsible for Coraline and Corpse Bride, so parents had best not take their small fry to the theater expecting to see talking cars or dancing penguins or anything else that would send the wee ones off to Dreamland with a smile on their face and a teddy bear (not Ted, of course) in their arms. Instead, this PG-rated attraction is open season on any child who's still afraid of the dark, so it's best to leave them at home watching A Bug's Life for the umpteenth time. Everyone else, though, can expect a good time from this imaginatively designed and sharply scripted tale about young Norman (voiced by The Road's Kodi Smit-McPhee), a sensitive boy who, like Haley Joel Osment, sees dead people. This ability makes him the freak of his town (aptly named Blithe Hollow, a nod to both Noel Coward and Washington Irving), and only the equally lonely Neil (Tucker Albrizzi), the butt of endless fat jokes, wants to be his friend. But when Norman's estranged uncle (John Goodman) warns him that Blithe Hollow will soon be destroyed by a centuries-old witch's curse, it's up to Norman and Neil — reluctantly accompanied by the school bully (Christopher "McLovin" Mintz-Plasse), Norman's shallow sister (Anna Kendrick) and Neil's lunkheaded brother (Casey Affleck) — to uncover the witch's secret, fend off shuffling zombies, and prevent the panicky townspeople from obliterating their own community. In the wake of toon blockbusters like Brave and the Ice Age and Madagascar sequels, this charming and often very funny piece is bound to get lost in the crowd, but in the chance it makes it to Blu-ray and DVD by Halloween, it's a sound choice to pop into the player ... provided the tots are in the next room watching It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. ***

TED Rude, raunchy and decidedly non-PC, Ted finds writer-director Seth MacFarlane managing to wring every last drop of comic potential out of a dubious premise. We first meet Ted during the 1980s, when friendless child John Bennett receives him as an ordinary Christmas present and, thanks to a well-timed falling star, discovers that his wish to have a live teddy bear has come true. Ted naturally becomes a celebrity, even appearing alongside Johnny Carson in a bit of Forrest-Gump-meets-JFK sleight of hand, but he's forgotten over the ensuing decades, and he now spends his time on the couch, sharing bong hits with the grown-up John (Wahlberg). John has a loving girlfriend in Lori (Mila Kunis), and while she's been generally good-natured about the friendship between John and Ted, she realizes that it's time John accepts adult responsibility so they might consider a real life together. She basically makes John choose between her and the bear, and it's to the film's credit that she's not presented as an overbearing (no pun intended) shrew but as the most sensible person in the picture. John does indeed give adult life a try, and Ted even gets his own apartment and lands a job as a grocery store clerk. But with so many parties to attend and so many bongs to tap, it's hard for the best buds to remain apart for long. Prostitutes, rich doofuses, fat kids, 9/11, Jews, 80s music, Susan Boyle, James Franco, testicular cancer — pretty much everything's open for funny business in Ted. Flatulence gags and gay-panic riffs — two long-standing faves of man-boys like MacFarlane — make appearances, and it's no surprise that these bits are the ones that most frequently fail to hit their marks. But favorably adding to the mirth are some superb cameos — not the lazy sorts that mark too many other modern comedies, but ones that are expertly woven into the fabric of the story. Whether he's wooing Kunis or roughhousing with Ted, Wahlberg is a lively presence in this film. As for Ted, we have no problem accepting him as a living, breathing entity, thanks to the effects work that seamlessly places him in the thick of the action. To be honest, I'm more impressed with the comparatively low-tech look of Ted than the been-there-done-that razzle dazzle of The Amazing Spider-Man — a startling declaration that might make some wonder if I've spent too much time myself on that couch with the bong-banging bear. ***

TOTAL RECALL Author Philip K. Dick wrote "We Can Remember It for You Wholesale" in 1966 — a short story, it told of a working-class man who, long wanting to travel to Mars (which in this future setting has been colonized), visits a corporation that specializes in memory implants. But as the procedure gets under way, it seems as if he has actually been to Mars, previously working there as a secret agent with a license to kill. In 1990, director Paul Verhoeven and various screenwriters took this premise and expanded on it, turning the short story into the feature-length Total Recall and having their protagonist actually visit Mars rather than just remembering it. This version has recently been re-released on Blu-ray, so it's easy to revisit it and notice just how much the 2012 take manages to reduce the scope of the story, turning it from spectacle to footnote. Colin Farrell tackles the Arnold Schwarzenegger role: He plays Douglas Quaid, whose trip to the memory-implant joint unleashes disturbing memories that suggest his present life — complete with boring job and hot wife (Kate Beckinsale as Lori) — isn't exactly what it seems. Sure enough, Quaid finds out that he's no ordinary laborer but rather a highly skilled government operative who switched sides and joined the rebels to topple the existent, and oppressive, hierarchy. Seeking to further establish his true identity, he hooks up with his former squeeze, a freedom fighter named Melina (Jessica Biel), and her comrades in arms. Director Len Wiseman and his scribes have completely removed the Martian element found in Dick's story and Verhoeven's film, electing to keep the action earthbound. Restricting Total Recall to Earth is a dubious decision, but whatever — as long as the movie delivers the goods, I guess it ultimately doesn't matter if it's set on Earth, Mars or Tatooine. But without the enjoyable Mars material, Wiseman and company do nothing to fill in the blanks. The movie is just the usual CGI soullessness, relentless in its narrative monotony. It especially devotes an ungodly amount of screen time to a series of endless chases — so many, in fact, that I had to wonder if the performers were being paid by the mile. The picture offers fleeting homage to Verhoeven's original — the three-breasted prostitute! the stocky woman at customs! — but it displays little innovation it can call its own. Instead, it offers explosions full of sound and fury but signifying nothing so much as yet another tiresome endeavor with little on its mind. *1/2

TROUBLE WITH THE CURVE Following the worst performance of his career — his co-starring role opposite an empty chair at the recent Republican National Convention (the Oscar campaign is understandably being built around the chair) — Clint Eastwood returns to sturdier terrain with this baseball drama. But why? Back in 2008, the accomplished filmmaker stated that the box office hit Gran Torino would mark his final performance and he would thereafter concentrate on directing unless a phenomenal script came his way. The screenplay for Trouble with the Curve, the first for writer Randy Brown, certainly showcases a character that plays to the actor's strengths, but the rest is so warmed-over that it's hard to see what caught Clint's squint. The international icon stars as Gus Lobel, a legendary scout whose best days might be behind him. Gus is handed what might be his final assignment: He's to go to North Carolina and analyze the potential of a high school batting sensation named Bo Gentry (Joe Massingill). (Incidentally, how is the state of NC represented in this film? Know that the sign in front of a local motel reads, "LOWEST RAT_S IN TOWN.") As a stand-alone feature, Trouble with the Curve is pleasant yet persistently predictable, the sort of acceptable date-night fodder that evaporates from memory before the week is even out. Yet in examining the complete arc of Eastwood's career, it becomes difficult to justify the existence of the movie. What particularly makes the film out of place is that the elderly man that Clint portrayed so powerfully in Million Dollar Baby and Gran Torino here has nothing else to say, nowhere else to go. The religious undercurrents and prickly family relationships have already been mined to death by the movie star in far superior works. No one is really required to stretch in this picture, but Amy Adams (as Eastwood's estranged daughter) and Justin Timberlake (as a former player) do manage to surprise or please us in a few scenes. But while it's always great to see Eastwood back in the cinematic saddle, one gets the sense that he's merely going through the motions. He repeatedly kicks a coffee table that get in his way, yells at a waitress to bring him his check, blows off the advice of well-meaning doctors — in short, he does everything but bellow, "Get off my home plate!" **1/2

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